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 Oct 2012 Rachel Brainard
-D
I am a guardian angel,
cooped up in a cage up north,
with my wingspan so long
but the bars held so close,
that feathers enclose their own home.
--
I once told a prince a tale,
of how he could find his voice.
So he lifted his pen
& he wrote her a song,
& the cage was once again closed.
--
I visit a lady in black,
who wishes to be left alone.
But I visit her still,
& she weeps just a bit,
just enough to be at ease again.
--
a ghost I once knew still haunts me,
though I’ve fallen from my perch up high.
he begs me for wisdom & mercy,
so I enclose him & dry his eyes.
--
oh, there are woes among His people,
not one soul is saved from all this.
but His angels protect,
& they clean up the messes,
but even they have a cage to forget.
here are a few verses to a potential song i'm writing from the perspective of a guardian angel who has her own list of things from which she needs protection.

any advice/wisdom would be appreciated.

(i'm still waiting for the chorus to show himself.)
 Oct 2012 Rachel Brainard
E
Part 1:
&words; spill out:
heart-hued as a sunset accident
steeped in courage
&staining; my night sleepless

∈ prayer
our hands raise up to caress this newnight,
&cas;; scattered shadows like
spooked birds in flight

Part 2:
&inkscribble; spreads
fully across the tablet
of my sullied, aging heart.
Pages soaked&dying;
purpledark

weightedbeauty
after you speak the sunset-things
to fruition across the fields:
Nebraska solitude&desire;

Part 3:
&rising; again
on a third day, I must depart
&brea;; our day in two
(you&i;)

The sun&i; shatter time,
as the dawnmirror
remembering dusk
cracks today into the night

&words; escape
from parted lips&uncapped; pen
to fly above the broken world
as sparrows rising like

Son&Wor;; resurrected
pouring salvation on the stony soil
of our souls
like sundrench in spring

&script; winds verdant
vines around us
watered by heavenwords of
forever ago

Part 4:
&ink; fills up my bookheart
as I return it to a cage
&leave; the you&i; behind me
in a vagabond-blue nighttime
 Oct 2012 Rachel Brainard
-D
there was a morning that awoke
to dreams of you
holding coffee mugs full of your words that you could never speak.
[for my hands were full&clasped;
with the covers of another lover,
but you held the chalice closer
so as to keep it warm until
I emerged from my slumber]

& there is this evening that feels
glimmers&flashes; of a new awakening:
awe & wonder & immaculate passion, too.
[the covers are beginning to recede
as I emerge to the brand new season
& reach up for the mug that awakens
& renews
& answers my questions
in the language that you&I; have always spoken
in our secret places]

come back to me, I plead,
even though I am the one who left,
& it has not been easy…


but I would like to unwrap the whispering whatifs
that have comforted me timeaftertime
since the day we first met:
whatif
our fingers intertwined &
whatif
our embraces became eclipses &
whatif
our paths intersected
& stayed that way on a journey for some time?
[just think of all the things we could see
& feel
& write
& listen
together]

destinations, destinations;
we’d be walking in crooked lines
composed of our mistakes, unpredictable emotions,
but our honesty & forgiveness would correct our straying.
[& we’d finally be moving forward
somewhere,
which is better than backward
just about anywhere
--especially to all the places we’ve been:
heartbreak &
harm &
holding on to who we’ve lost--.]

so you shut her door,
& I’ll burn his bridge
& don’t be afraid to sing Hallelujahs as I
fade to slumber on your porch in the rain,
for just because the seasons will change,
doesn’t mean that I won’t be standing here
to cover you in the midst of autumn leaves
& fears of Falling.
 Oct 2012 Rachel Brainard
E
Time
 Oct 2012 Rachel Brainard
E
wears overalls
and drives an old pickup truck

about half the speed
we’ve set our heart to travel

through this dying stretch of Nebraska,
our trail slicing west without end.

Time admires his work, keeping pace with
the changing season, and forcing us to  

follow: windows down, we fill our lungs
with the colors of transition

exhaled by tinged leaves that grow
up and older, matching the rust on the truck.

You finally manage to pass, and we leave
Time and his fields fading behind us.
Rough draft.
 Sep 2012 Rachel Brainard
E
I feel you slip away
slowly--
like a breath of smoke
from my lungs--
at once foreign and
part of me.

You drift away
from my lips--
parting,
as if to say,
Goodbye?

Sultry smoke dissolves,
Tearing scars into
my lungs,
As you-- you
also burn inside
my chest(my heart)

and I watch,
with stinging eyes,
all the smoke
fades west,
into the wind.
from mount sinai
to pentacost
ancient sacred winds
damaging yesterday in
our dimension
branches strewn
rattling treetop leaves
hazy clouds of dust
fires gathering strength
jet stream laden smoke
scaling winds
breathing rhythms
awareness discovering finally
one wind
Take only what you can carry,
Only what you need.
Just enough to feed and water
You and a faithful steed.

Forget the path well trodden,
That will not help you on your way.
Instead forge your own trail
For others to follow one day.

Never shy from an opportunity
Throw yourself through every door.
For this life is an adventure,
Now go,
Explore!
A simple kiss upon your cheek,
A gentle, loving kiss.
Not amorous or passionate,
Not connoting love remiss.
Thirty years ago
we were an "item" as they say.
I broke your heart
with my callousness
when, hurtfully, I strayed
I'm not proud that I hurt you.
Sad that it comes to this-
To kiss you like a stranger
feels like the Judas Kiss.
I am surprised to see my old lover in a social setting that requires a certain greeting.
What if at the end of the road
A mirror stood reflecting all that you know

What if there was no new beginning
But simply a mirror that replays the ending

What if when your friends pass
They see only a mirror, just a piece of glass

What if your life comes to a close
And you’re the man in the mirror that nobody knows

Eventually your time will pass,
But will you look in the mirror?
Or will you break the glass?
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